Christmas on the Sleipnir
by the-nerd-word
Summary: A short drabble with Cain and Abel. Merry Christmas, everyone!


Notes:

Starfighter belongs to HamletMachine.

* * *

When the hot water hit his back, Abel felt tension seep from his shoulders, and he let out a sigh that crumpled in his throat like a fragile collection of exhaustion, fear and wariness. He leaned into the pour from the shower head, eyes closed and figure slouched. After a while, after steam had filled the room and he was sure that his muscles had relaxed as much as they could, he opened one eye and reached for the shampoo. He lathered the scentless soap into his hair, longer fingers kneading against his scalp. Abel could feel the steam cling to his nose with every breath he took, and found himself taking longer and deeper breaths as he tilted his head back to rinse the shampoo away.

As bubbles swirled around the drain, he began to hum.

"White Christmas" turned into "Jingle Bell Rock," which in turn faded into the beginning of "Silent Night." His voice sounded small against the hiss of the water, but it felt nice to cling to holiday memories in those wordless tunes.

Abel had just begun to hum along to another Bing Crosby classic when a sudden knock at the door made him jump.

Cain stood in the doorway, arms crossed and customary scowl in place. "You've been in there forever. You better not have used all the hot water."

With a guilty flush, Abel turned the handle to off; he pushed the hair out of his face and was left to stand dripping and cold. "Sorry," he said, and he meant it. "I didn't know you were back. I got a little carried away."

Cain snorted but left it at that. He motioned to a towel hanging on the bathroom wall. "Dry off. The last thing I need is you getting sick."

Abel did so in silence, thoughts lazily bouncing from Christmas to Cain to engine schematics. His mind was heavy, he thought with another sigh. So very heavy.

Cain was sitting on their bed when Abel exited the bathroom, quiet as he watched his navigator finish toweling his hair. Abel finally put the towel aside with a glance toward his dresser; part of him just wanted to curl up in sweatpants and sleep for the next week, but despite the late hour, he knew what Cain was waiting for, knew what both of their bodies wanted even if their minds were overworked. And really, every touch, gentle or rough, eased part of that, too.

Abel crawled into bed, skin flush and still too warm from his shower. He settled beside Cain, their hips touching, and he put a tentative hand to his fighter's shoulder. He was appropriately surprised when Cain abruptly asked, "What were you humming? In the shower."

Abel mentally backtracked to the different songs. "Just Christmas music," he said with a little shrug. "It's two days away, even if it won't be really celebrated here."

Cain worked his jaw in thought, staring down at his feet instead of Abel. "Did you celebrate it at home?"

"Christmas? Yeah, always. What about you?"

"Nah." Cain raised the corner of his lip. "Probably wouldn't be the same in the colonies anyway."

Abel leaned into Cain's side and smiled a little when Cain put an arm around his shoulder. "Maybe. I bet you'd like it though. The lights and the music and the gifts. Things get pretty festive."

Cain rolled his eyes. "Sounds extravagant."

"It can be," Abel replied sleepily, head coming to rest on Cain's shoulder. "But it's still really nice. Actually, I'd like to get you a present."

Cain was silent for a moment before gruffly telling him, "I don't need anything from you."

Abel hummed shortly under his breath. "No, you don't. But I'd still like to get you something. Can I?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Please?" Abel asked, lids sliding down tiredly.

Cain scowled and tried to peer at Abel on his shoulder. "I'm not going to give you anything back."

"That's okay," Abel said, closing his eyes briefly.

Cain relented with a sharp sigh. "Nothing embarrassing," he warned.

"Nothing embarrassing," Abel murmured reassuringly, voice dropping into a whisper as his eyes closed again.

Without saying anything else, Cain leaned back and pulled Abel against him. He reached over and grabbed the blanket and sheets, rearranging the bedding until they were both comfortably nestled. It only took a few moments for Abel's breathing to settle into the deep rhythm of sleep. Cain listened to him as they lay in the dark, arm loosely draped across Abel's waist.

He had nothing to give Abel, he knew. But he could do this; he could be another heartbeat in the dark.

It wasn't much.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered.

* * *

Notes:

I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas! Many blessings and love from me to you.


End file.
